Jeff Kent, a player who will always be remembered for his grit, his greatness and his often-grating personality, will officially announce his retirement at a news conference scheduled for this morning at Dodger Stadium.

With that, Kent will lower the curtain on a 17-year career that is almost certain to land him in the Hall of Fame, a career in which he was a five-time All-Star and a one-time Most Valuable Player but never got the chance to experience the one thing he clearly wanted most, which was to win a World Series.

The move hardly comes as a surprise given Kent’s age (40), the lack of interest he has generated on the free-agent market this winter and the fact he hobbled to the end of 2008, forcing himself through an accelerated rehabilitation from left knee surgery Sept. 2 so he could return to the field in a reserve role for the season’s final week and the playoffs.

But the less-than-spectacular end did little to dampen a career in which Kent batted .290, hit 377 homers and drove in 1,518 runs. A Southern California native, he spent his final four seasons with the Dodgers. But the best years of his career were spent in San Francisco, where he played from 1997-2002 and had a season for the ages in 2000, capturing the National League’s Most Valuable Player award by hitting a career-high .334 with 41 doubles, 33 homers and 125 RBIs.

That was part of what would have been a stretch of nine consecutive 100-RBI seasons if he wouldn’t have missed 23games with an injury in 2003, a year when he drove in a mere 93 runs.

For Kent, missing games with injuries didn’t happen often. Stories of his defiantly playing through pain are numerous and legendary, including one from that MVP year in which he played both ends of a July 4 doubleheader against Colorado despite being so sick he had to be administered an IV between games.

“I know it’s a cliche, but this guy gave 100 percent every time he walked onto the field,” said Dodgers trainer Stan Conte, who held the same job with the Giants during Kent’s time with that club.

“Whether he was hurt, banged up, no matter what the situation, that didn’t mean anything to him. That is what impressed me so much when I first saw him in 1997, and it never changed through his last game in Los Angeles.”

But then, that was Kent, the quintessential “gamer.” He was old-school to the end, a man who passionately believed there was a right way and a wrong way to play the game and had no reservations about voicing his opinion when a teammate was doing the latter.

It was partly for that reason, partly for the fact he rarely socialized with teammates and often kept to himself in the clubhouse, and partly for the fact he made it clear he had little use for the media that Kent’s prickly demeanor also will be a major part of his legacy.

“He is probably much maligned by a lot of people, but I love the guy,” said Cincinnati Reds manager Dusty Baker, who managed the Giants the entire time Kent played for them. “He is very consistent in his personality. He was a clutch man for me, big-time. He gave it all he had, and he was like that all the time … a real pro and a great family man.

“I think he is going to miss the game a lot more than he lets on.”

His gruff exterior notwithstanding, those close to the Dodgers say Kent was one of the team’s most generous players in the community. He was especially giving when it came to women’s issues, taking part each year in the Dodgers’ annual baseball clinic for women and girls and donating untold amounts of money to the women’s athletic program at his alma mater, the University of California.

“Part of what made him special was his approach,” said Dodgers general manager Ned Colletti, who was the Giants’ assistant GM during Kent’s tenure with the club. “His approach is all business, without a lot of frivolity, and some people take that the wrong way. But it is who he is, and it has made him a great player. It would be unfair to say he should have acted differently, because if he (had), he might not have been the same type of player.”

Kent once said he was never a baseball fan growing up, and he clearly never cared much about what other baseball players thought of him. What he did care about, though, was respect, something he never failed to give to the game and never failed to receive from his teammates – whether they liked him or not.

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